


Getting Moved In

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When we last left our intrepid couple, Regan Cousland had just asked Alistair to move in with her.  What was his decision?  Where are they now?  Is there celebration?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Moved In

**Author's Note:**

> The second part of this chapter owes its entire existence to cullenstairshenanigans from Tumblr (Felandaris here)… and a conversation about Jensen Eckles and the song “The Eye of the Tiger”. I had an absolute blast writing it, too. So, thank you dear. And I can’t wait to see your finished one too :)

“Cullen and Trev should be bringing in the last of your stuff in.”  Regan flopped against the nearest wall, dragging an arm across her forehead to try and wipe away _some_ of the sweat.  A quick glance over at Alistair found him face-down on his bare mattress.  They’d gotten all the furniture and boxes moved; they just hadn’t started unpacking the smaller things … like the boxes of sheets and things.  She could feel a trickle of sweat make its way down her spine; the once-loose tank top had started sticking to her skin and was doing little to soak up the evidence of a workout.  The only thing keeping her hair out of her face was the warden-blue bandana, but it was near soaked as well.  “You OK?”

The muffled groan coming from the bed did little to actually answer her question.  It took three over-exaggerated tries for Alistair to lift himself up enough to speak, the movement accompanied by a series of groans and grimaces that would have made the most hardened theatre critic applaud.  They still had to arrange everything the way they wanted, but at least all the furniture was moved.  And a few of Regan’s friends were unloading the truck at the storage unit at the same time, so he figured they’d be almost done as well.  “How is it that _this_ was harder than moving your things in?”

“Because we didn’t _just_ unload a few bits of furniture from a truck this time?”  She wanted to collapse onto the bed as well, but if she did, she was afraid she’d never get up again.

“Where do you want this dresser?”  Cullen’s voice echoed from the hallway.  He sounded as tired as they felt.  Eight of them had been around to load up the moving van.  Then, they split up to save time – half of them unloading at the storage facility and half moving the remaining furniture from one apartment to the other. 

“Back here.  Hang on and I’ll help.”  Regan shoved away from the wall and trudged around the bed to get to the door.  Her path led her right alongside the sprawled Alistair.  She let her fingers tickle along what bits of him she could reach, figuring he was too beat to do much.  She was wrong.

Faster than anyone had ever seen him move, Alistair’s arm shot out and wrapped around her enough to pull her to the bed!  “Noooo.  Don’t go out there.”  He nuzzled at her throat, tongue flicking out just enough to taste the salt in her sweat.  “Just stay here and pass out with me.”  His hand moved along her side, fingers dipping under her shirt earned laughing shrieks as she tried to squirm away.

“You two could at least wait til we’re out of the apartment, you know,” Trevelyan grunted, backing into the room while carrying one end of Alistair’s dresser.  “You can get her out of her clothes later.” 

“I wasn’t trying to …!”

“We weren’t …!”

“We _haven’t_ even …!”  Alistair all but scrambled to his feet, cheeks turning bright red as he looked between his girlfriend and their friends.  They’d been taking everything slow … including that.  It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it; he _had,_ more than he probably should, really.  But they hadn’t even really _talked_ much about it other than their past histories, and he was taking his cues from her.  What if she didn’t want him like that? 

Cullen’s laugh almost hid the exhaustion that a near full day of moving furniture had brought on.  “Don’t listen to her.  She is just delighted to have a friend whose love life she can actually pry into and not risk her job.”  He directed his wife to the only logical spot for the dresser, ignoring her laughing protests.  “But I will say I’m glad this is the last piece.  The others should be on their way back soon, I would think.” 

“Maker’s ass, I hope not _too_ soon.”  Cousland rolled off the bed, landing almost gracefully before simply thudding onto the floor.  “I think we _all_ need a shower.”  She could practically hear her friend snickering behind her and crinkled her nose, hurriedly adding, “ _Separate_ showers.” 

                                                *****   *****   *****   *****   *****   *****   *****

“What did Alistair mean you haven’t even …?”  Trevelyan leaned against the door frame to Cousland’s bathroom, watching her friend finish getting ready.  Alfstanna was in the bedroom getting dressed.  Alistair and Cullen were supposed to be getting ready in the Rutherford’s apartment while the other men were getting ready in Alistair’s now-empty apartment. 

Cousland tried to ignore the topic of conversation, focusing on getting the rose earrings in without somehow missing the holes.  She could feel her cheeks and ears grow warm, though.  She _knew_ Trev had caught Alistair’s last half-statement.  And Cullen was right.  Her friend really didn’t have anyone that wasn’t a coworker or higher up at work that she could risk teasing.  “We haven’t … done anything more than kiss, really.”

Trevelyan stared at the other woman, careful to keep her voice down.  “Aren’t you the girl who bedded what’s-his-name on the second date?”  A glance over her shoulder to make sure that Alfstanna wasn’t anywhere near done, and she turned back to Cousland.  “And I _know_ you had been talking about sleeping with Nathaniel long before you two split.”

“And how long after that did he start screwing that waitress behind my back?”  Cousland shoved away from the mirror, finally accepting that there wasn’t anything further she could do with her hair, makeup or jewelry.  “A week?  And Nate … when we _did_ get even close to going that far … it was less than that when his father killed mom and dad.  I just ….”  She refused to break down into tears … not after she’d gone through the trouble of getting even remotely made up.  And she hated to admit that it still hurt … still colored how she dealt with people … with relationships.  “It’s not like I _don’t_ want to … I just ….”

“Don’t want to what?”  A familiar voice … a _male_ voice came from the doorway.  Three sets of eyes turned to stare at the newcomer.

“Cullen!  What are you …?”

“You could have _knocked!”_

_“_ What if one of us was naked?”

Cullen raised his hands in either protest or surrender, he wasn’t sure which.  “I _did_ knock.  Jasper opened the door.”  He looked back at the mabari, who sat looking rather smug and pleased with himself.  “Alistair should be finished with his shower by now.  It took him longer than I’d expected to pick out clothes for the evening.” 

“Well, we’re all done here.  Let’s go get him.”  Trevelyan walked over and pulled her husband into a kiss, happy to see the man finally relaxing for once. 

“You girls ready?”  Oswyn poked his head into the apartment, not sure which woman he’d be most afraid of pissing off.  “Dairren and Fergus are already out by the car, waiting.”

Alfstanna grinned as she ducked around the embracing couple to reach her own husband.  “We just need to collect Alistair and then we’re good to go, I think.”  She looked back at the pair of Regans.  “Oswyn and I will go out and wait with the others.  You all go get Reg’s new roommate.”

                                                                                ***        ***        ***        ***

Trevelyan unlocked the door of her apartment to sounds of a song she hadn’t heard in a while.  Alistair must have found their stereo.  At least no one was complaining about the noise.  Of course, it didn’t quite sound like she remembered it.  There was still the normal sounds – the music and the vocals she was used to.  But there was something else.

“Went the distance, now I’m not gonna stop … just a man and his will to survive.” 

“Alistair?”  Cousland’s voice was muffled by the music.  She made her way through the apartment ahead of the others; Cullen and Trevelyan hung back, less than eager to perhaps walk in on Alistair still in the shower.  “You ready?”  There were just a few feet between her and the bathroom when the door swung open and a nearly naked Alistair came sauntering out. 

Well, sauntering wasn’t _quite_ what he was doing.  Hips swaying to the beat, he was lost to the music, singing into a hair brush microphone along with the lead and slowly dancing his way down the hall toward the bedroom.  “It’s the … eye of the tiger; it’s the thrill of the fight!” 

Regan watched as his toweled butt wiggled.  She couldn’t help but grin when he thrust his fists in front of him like he was punching something repeatedly.  She could see the occasional bead of water drip out of his hair and run down his spine.  There was a quiet “shhh” when Trevelyan and Cullen moved up to join her, and a wave of her hand to get them to stay behind her. 

“And the last known survivor …” His hip swung sharply to the left, hands moving to rest at the back of his head.  “Stalks his prey in the night …” 

She saw the edge of the towel flip up as his hips went back to the right.  Cousland knew they should say _something_ , let him know they were there.  But … she had to admit it was a nice show. 

“And he’s watching us all with the eye ….”  His shoulders started swaying along with his hips – left, right , and left again.   “Of the tiger!”  Alistair’s hips snapped one more time to the left.  He bent backwards and brought his makeshift microphone up for the final notes and the towel just … came loose.

OK, she _knew_ she should look away … should give him some privacy to actually get dressed.  Or at the very least convince Cullen and Trevelyan to leave for a minute.  But the sight of the near perfectly toned cheeks kind of … distracted her.  The way they clenched and relaxed every time he swayed those hips or took a step or …well, made any sort of movement, really, all but begged her to reach out and grab a handful. 

“The eye of the tiger ….”

“What’s the hold up?  Dairren’s getting impatient.”  Fergus made his way into the room, oblivious to the show going on in the hall.  “And if you all don’t get out there soon, Alfstanna and Oswyn will end up using my backseat for something that it has _never_ seen.”  Cousland spun and quickly made shushing noises; Alistair would be embarrassed enough that _she_ was watching this.  But if he knew her brother had seen too … not to mention Cullen and the other Regan ….

“The eye of -  Wha?”  Alistair spun around, hands flying down to cover himself.  Everything went warm.  Regan … _his_ Regan was right _there_.  She was watching him, staring, smiling – what kind of smile was that, anyway - eyes seemingly locked on his.  And … Oh, for the love of the Maker!  Cullen and the other Regan were there too!  Oh no … oh, no, no, no, no, no.  And … was that someone else behind …?  Andraste’s ass; not Fergus _too_!  Maker, he was _never_ going to live this down.

“Alistair, I … I didn’t ….  I mean, we were just ….”  Cousland couldn’t find the words she wanted.  She wanted to apologize for all but sneaking up on him, for not letting them know they were there.  But every time she opened her mouth, gibberish came out.  It didn’t help that he was _naked_ ; the water and shadows playing across his skin, almost inviting her to touch. 

“Well, this is certainly the most I’ve seen of one of my sister’s boyfriends.”  Fergus quickly turned and headed back for the door.  “And more than I ever wanted to.  I’ll … keep everyone else downstairs so you can … finish up.” 

“Yes, I … think that might be a good idea.”  Cullen wrapped an arm around his wife and gently guided her toward the exit.  “Let’s give Alistair … some privacy.”  The door mercifully clicked shut behind them.

“I … um, didn’t … didn’t hear you come in.”  Alistair shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.  His first instinct was to let his hand fly to the back of his head – his signature embarrassed reaction.  But his towel was somewhere on the floor and all he had covering his dignity was his hands.  Maker’s breath, why did a part of him wonder what she thought?  She was still just … staring at him.  Why wouldn’t she say something?  What would she do if his hands moved?  Andraste preserve him, why didn’t she say _something_.

She licked her lips and swallowed, her throat suddenly going quite dry.  “I … guess the … music was too loud?”  She fought to keep her eyes on his face lest her cheeks get even hotter than they already were.  “I … um, I’ll go … um … wait out in the … in the other room.”  She chewed on her bottom lip and took a step backwards, then another and then a third.  “I can’t wait to see more of you soon.”  An awkward shift of his hips drew her eyes down over the soft trail of hair leading right toward ….  “In clothes!  I mean, I can’t wait to see you … _dressed_ … soon.  So … we can go celebrate you moving in, I mean.”


End file.
